The printer in the Hoshino High faculty office coughed like it was dying.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, washing the room in that sleepy gray that made every student look guilty, even the innocent ones.
Tomo Kisaragi was neither.
He was just bored.
He rubbed his temples, half-asleep, staring at a stack of forms. Somewhere along the way, he'd agreed to register a club—any club—as long as it meant getting a quiet room to draw manga in after class.
"Name of the club?" the secretary asked without looking up.
Tomo squinted at the clipboard.
The ink smudged where his hand rested. 'Manga… something.'
He filled in the box lazily, the pen dragging across the paper.
COMBAT CLUB
He blinked.
"Wait, what?"
The printer spat out the approval sheet. The secretary stamped it with a tired smile.
"Congratulations, Kisaragi. The Combat Club is officially registered."
Tomo stared.
"You're kidding."
"Clubs can't joke, dear."
The stamp went thunk.
That was how the legend of "The Eraser" began—by accident and bureaucratic error.
Lunch Break
By noon, the whole school knew.
Posters had popped up like weeds on every hallway wall:
NEW CLUB CHALLENGES BASEBALL TEAM FOR GYM RIGHTS
"COMBAT CLUB PRESIDENT: TOMO KISARAGI."
Tomo froze in front of one.
"I didn't challenge anyone."
Beside him, Jin, his loudmouthed friend with the social subtlety of a bullhorn, grinned like it was his birthday.
"You did now, Captain!"
"No, Jin, I literally—"
"Bro, this is fate! You finally gonna use those reflexes for something cool!"
Tomo sighed. "I use them to catch falling pencils."
Before he could argue more, Rika Fujimoto, the judo captain turned self-appointed student enforcer, marched up with a clipboard.
"Kisaragi. Gym. 3 PM. Baseball Club demanded a trial match for rights."
"Trial match?"
"They said you disrespected their sport."
"I've never spoken to them."
"Then go apologize—with your fists."
She left before he could respond.
Jin slapped him on the back. "Guess we're a fight club now, Prez."
3 PM
The courtyard had turned into a coliseum.
Students crowded balconies, chanting nonsense. Someone had spray-painted "FIGHT CLUB RULES" on a trash can.
At the center, a rope ring had been marked out with gym tape.
The Baseball Captain—tall, broad, sunburned—stood stretching his neck, flanked by teammates in varsity jackets.
"This is stupid," Tomo muttered.
Rika crossed her arms. "You can withdraw."
He exhaled. "Then they get the gym."
"Exactly. So fight for it."
"You're enjoying this."
"A little."
The Captain cracked his knuckles.
"You're that Combat Club kid, right? Think you're hot stuff for taking our slot?"
"No," Tomo said plainly. "I think I'm hungry."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
The whistle blew.
The Fight
The Captain rushed in, fists swinging like baseball bats.
Tomo shifted his weight, eyes half-lidded.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't even really there.
The first punch grazed past his cheek, wind brushing his hair.
He stepped aside—barely. His movement looked lazy, almost careless.
Another swing came. Tomo ducked, his body flowing under it, fluid and unhurried.
The crowd started shouting.
"Hit him!"
"He's dodging like a movie!"
"Lucky flinches, bro!"
The Captain's breaths grew sharper, heavier.
Tomo's eyes flicked once—tiny, precise.
He stepped in.
His right hand rose like it didn't belong to him, hips turning, shoulder snapping forward.
A pop.
Not a bang. Not a thud.
Just a clean, surgical sound.
The Captain's body froze mid-motion. His knees buckled.
He hit the ground with a dull thunk.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then—
Delinquent A: "He nuked him!"
Delinquent B: "No way—that was luck!"
Delinquent C: "Bro didn't even look serious!"
Delinquent D: "…He erased him."
The last line hung heavier than the rest.
Aftermath
Rika crouched by the Captain, checking his pulse.
"He's fine. Just out cold."
Jin stared at Tomo like he'd seen a ghost.
"What was that?"
"Reflex," Tomo said.
"Reflex doesn't delete people, man!"
The crowd buzzed—half disbelief, half awe.
Phones came out. The word "nuke" was already trending on the school feed.
"THE COMBAT CLUB ERASES BASEBALL CAPTAIN IN ONE PUNCH."
"LUCK OR LEGEND?"
Tomo sat on the edge of the rope, rubbing his knuckles. He looked more tired than triumphant.
"I didn't mean to hit that hard."
"You didn't mean to?!" Jin sputtered. "Bro, you folded a varsity captain like laundry!"
Tomo shrugged. "He'll wake up."
"They're calling you The Eraser."
"That's stupid."
"That's viral!"
Rika handed him an ice pack. "You're trending whether you like it or not, Kisaragi."
He pressed it against his wrist, expression unreadable.
Evening
Hoshino High's rooftop was orange with sunset.
Jin was still talking.
"You're like… a superhero! Nah, like a secret weapon! I bet you could take the karate club too—"
Tomo didn't answer. He was watching clouds drift over the city.
"Hey," Jin nudged. "What's wrong?"
"It just doesn't feel right," Tomo murmured. "He wasn't even mad. He just wanted to win practice time."
"That's what fights are, bro."
"Then they're stupid."
He stood up, brushing off his blazer.
"If I ever fight again, it's not gonna be for gym slots."
Jin grinned. "Sure. Until next time someone breathes wrong."
Down Below
In the gym, the Baseball Captain sat on the floor, still dazed, watching the replay on a friend's phone.
He frowned, rewinding the moment over and over.
"He didn't even look at me when he threw it," he muttered. "Like he knew."
Later That Night
Aya Minori sat in her room, scrolling through the video.
She watched the hit again and again—the calm before impact, the exact rhythm of Tomo's step.
"They call him The Eraser," she whispered, setting her phone down.
Outside her window, the neon from vending machines flickered across the street, blue and gold like a pulse.
"I don't think it was luck."
Next Morning
Hoshino High's rumor mill was in full meltdown.
"I heard he trained under an ex-pro boxer!"
"No, he's a street kid from Minato Ward!"
"Someone said he's half robot!"
Every story was worse than the last.
Tomo walked through it all like he couldn't hear a word.
Jin trotted beside him, waving a newspaper printed by the student council.
"Front page, bro! 'The Eraser Erases Baseball Captain!' You're famous!"
"I'm dropping out."
"You can't! You got a match tomorrow!"
"With who?"
Rika stepped out from the hall with her clipboard.
"Karate Club. They requested it."
"You're kidding."
"They said if you're the real deal, prove it."
Tomo sighed.
"Can't I just erase my name from the list?"
"Not anymore," Rika said. "It's your club now."
He looked out the window.
The afternoon sun bounced off the gym's cracked floor.
Somewhere out there, people were waiting to see if his first win was a fluke—or something else.
And honestly, Tomo didn't know either.
He flexed his hand once, quietly. The air felt heavy, like the moment before a storm.
"I hope it was luck," he said.
[END OF CHAPTER 1 — "THE PAPERWORK ERROR"]